


Sweets for the Sweet

by GwendolynGrace



Category: The Closer
Genre: F/F, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Yuletide 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/pseuds/GwendolynGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Capt. Raydor discovers something peculiar about Deputy Chief Johnson, tests her hypothesis, and comes to a conclusion. (Femmeslash if you squint.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweets for the Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greyathena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyathena/gifts).



~1~

“I’m certain there’s a very reasonable explanation,” Capt. Raydor said as she entered the squad room, “for Lt. Flynn’s involvement. But since he is currently under investigation--”

“Lt. Flynn is being used solely in an advisory capacity, Capt. Raydor,” Brenda replied. The softness of her accent fought against the clipped, hasty and defensive tones she used to cut off the line of questioning. “He was the arresting officer on the original case and his knowledge will be indispensable if we’re going to meet the deadline before the Governor decides to throw out the conviction.”

Raydor looked at her serenely. “Would you mind walking out with me? I think we might have more success working together if we could speak privately.”

Brenda seemed about to argue the point, but after a moment’s open-mouthed protest, she grabbed her giant bag and gestured to the Captain to lead the way.

“I’ve noticed that you don’t like being questioned in front of your squad. And I understand that, Chief Johnson, I do. Especially when a woman has seen so much...controversy,” she continued, finally settling on what she obviously thought was a diplomatic word, “and difficulty maintaining the confidence of her team, I can imagine that you’re sensitive to any appearance of being undermined--”

“I have no reason to believe my squad isn’t confident in me, Capt. Raydor,” Brenda said angrily.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that they don’t,” the Captain answered. “I meant that you work hard to maintain it.”

They entered the elevator and Raydor pressed the button for the Lobby.

“Just exactly where are we going?”

“I need coffee,” Captain Raydor explained, “and I’ll let you in on a secret: I can’t stand the stuff they serve in the building. There’s a shop right across the street. Do you mind? My treat.”

Brenda visibly bristled. “We have less than twelve hours to provide fresh evidence that will convince the Governor that this conviction was warranted. I need to be overseeing my case.”

“Agreed. But this will only take a minute. Besides, it sounded to me like you’ve already given them all their marching orders. Except for Lt. Flynn, that is. I don’t think you understand how important it is that his assistance on this case be limited as much as possible.”

“I don’t think you understand why that’s not going to happen.”

“Well, if you prefer, I can go to Chief Pope and demand that Lt. Flynn be suspended from active duty until the investigation into the alleged case of brutality can be concluded.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Brenda said, frowning. “As I have already said, Lt. Flynn is not on active duty at the moment; we are consulting him based on his exhaustive knowledge of the case at hand.” She looked up at the glass doors and picture windows of their destination. “Rose’s Bakery?” she asked in some distress.

“Yes. Problem?”

Brenda looked through the window to the counter, where a vast array of cakes, pies, doughnuts, pastries, and chocolate candies of all kinds stood on shelves behind refrigerated, lit cases. She grimaced. Capt. Raydor got the distinct sense that Brenda was forcing her mouth not to water. Sure enough, a moment later, Brenda swallowed as if she had tasted something sour. “No,” she said sullenly, and followed Raydor inside.

~2~

“Is there a particular reason you wanted to meet me here, Capt. Raydor?” Brenda asked a few months later, when Raydor invited her to another kaffeeklatch. She looked distinctly uncomfortable in the cafe with its white, wrought iron chairs and its sweetheart, old-time ice cream parlor decor, down to the candy-striped wallpaper. But perhaps it wasn’t the setting, but the bill of fare, that perturbed her. The previous time, Raydor noticed, Brenda had visibly wilted when it became clear they were going to a bakery. Perhaps ice cream parlors had the same unbalancing effect on her.

“I’ve said before, Chief Johnson, you seem much more receptive when we’re not on police grounds. Besides, I like the pistachio frozen yogurt.” She set down the paper cup, napkin, and spoon, and went to pour herself a glass of water from the fountain.

Brenda sat, primly. From Raydor’s vantage point, she could see Brenda staring at the lone bowl of frozen yogurt. She glanced over at the board with all the flavors listed, clutching the straps of her shoulder bag. Raydor took her time coming back to the table, amused by the way Brenda smoothed her skirt and decided to studiously ignore the dish of frozen treat. Choosing her moment, Raydor returned.

“Did you want something?” she offered as she sat back down. “I could ask them--”

“No, no, no, that’s fine, thank you, no,” Brenda said in the tone that meant she was forcing herself to refuse. “Capt. Raydor, I don’t mean to interrupt your... snack break,” she supplied after a pause. “But I have a murder investigation to close.”

“Yes. And I have an important allegation against Sgt. Gabriel to clear up.” She took a small spoonful of yogurt. “You know, have you ever realized how many members of your squad wind up in my files?”

Brenda could have sucked lemons. “I have noticed that someone seems to think the only people who would work for me are people who can’t get along anywhere else in the department,” she admitted. “But I happen to think that makes them a good deal _less_ corrupt than the rest of the force, as a matter of fact. And Sgt. Gabriel’s record is spotless.”

“Not exactly,” Raydor pointed out. “But I agree that compared to Lts. Provenza or Flynn, he seems almost a model officer.”

“Well, then perhaps you’ll be so kind as to inform me why you continually interfere with my team’s ability to conduct its investigations,” Brenda quipped.

“You know as well as I do that Internal Affairs can’t afford to reject any report of misconduct until we’ve completed a thorough inquiry. Chief Johnson, I keep telling you, I am not your enemy.” She really meant it, but it was clear Brenda disagreed.

“I admire your efficiency, actually,” Capt. Raydor continued. “And I have great respect for the way you have managed your team’s loyalties.”

“Oh, now what is that supposed to mean?” Brenda demanded, slapping one hand on the table. Raydor suppressed a smile; Brenda had no idea how adorable she was when she voiced her “h”’s and the “a” came out as an “uh” - or anytime she got pissed off enough to let her accent really show, for that matter.

“It means that I wish we weren’t always at odds, Chief,” Raydor said sadly.

~3~

“I’d like you to consider your position very carefully,” Capt. Raydor said, much later. “If you’re selected as Chief of Police, you’ll be a constant example to every woman and girl in Los Angeles.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Brenda said, not sounding happy about it at all.

“Don’t you want your coffee cake?” Raydor asked. She gestured to the large slice she had bought and placed across from herself. “I notice that whenever we come here, you always look at the cakes but you never get one for yourself.”

“How very observant, Capt. Raydor,” Brenda said.

“You don’t need to be so formal, either. Please call me Sharon.”

“Capt. Raydor,” Brenda insisted, emphasizing her rank, “I don’t think my abstinence from sweets is really any of your business, thank you very much. And if you’re as concerned about my image as you seem, then you’ll appreciate the need for healthy habits. Now, could we please get to the point? Why are you so interested in making me Chief?”

Raydor thought. She reached across the table and slid the plated pastry over in front of her place and licked the crumbs off her finger. “You’re an impressive woman, Brenda Leigh,” she said slowly. “And I think of all the women in the LAPD, you’ve got the best chance going.”

“And you’re determined to make sure my chances aren’t hurt by my image, is that it?” Brenda concluded.

“I think you know me well enough by now to realize that I don’t take half-measures,” Raydor told her.

“Well,” Brenda said primly. “I appreciate your willingness to sacrifice your time for the sake of making me over, but I have a murder confession to get.” She stood. “Is there anything else?”

Raydor thought about telling her. Now was not - quite - the time. After she got the job, after she could write her own ticket, then maybe - maybe - it would be time to make her own confession. But now she knew without a doubt that on that day, a bake shop, a place where Brenda would be most off her guard, would definitely be the _place_ to tell her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to my beta for the speedy and insightful editing! You're the best!


End file.
